Date Night
by compass54
Summary: Imagine E&B with four young kids and ten years of marriage behind them. Still madly in love, they just can't find enough opportunities to...connect. When Renee offers some alone time in the form of a date night once a month, this is what ensues. A one-shot tribute to the one of the funniest, most encouraging, and beautiful hearts in this fandom. Happy Birthday, LayAtHomeMom.


_**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer created some of these characters but what Lay did with them made me laugh so hard I had to review - every chapter of IN YOUR ROOM - when I could stop giggling enough to type.**_

_**Thanks to Carrie and Hadley for making this so easy peasy.**_

**~~ Date Night ~~**

Ten years of marriage and my husband's still got it. He's the man I overhear women describe as the town's hot doctor while they're in the drug store, waiting for prescriptions to fill or, like today at Wendy's, with their kids in tow, while I've got his kids in tow.

I can normally stay above these comments and feel flattered, since Edward's never given me a reason to feel jealous. I'm just possessive of what I have and, if they go too far, I can still bring out the crazy. I'll take down any "see you next Tuesday" who thinks she has a hope in hell of coming between me and my man.

Today, though, I can ignore them. My mind is dreamy and full of my husband because tonight is our first date night in years. It's going to be our way to reconnect like we used to before we became this big family. My mother actually offered when I explained the pressure four kids put on our marriage, and now, once a month, she and Phil are going to give us the opportunity to rekindle our lust. We've never used those exact words, but they're taking the kids this afternoon and we'll pick them up before Sunday lunch, so they know what's going on.

They know how much I appreciate them giving us this precious alone time and they haven't asked for any details on what our plans are.

Date nights had to come about eventually when locking our bedroom door no longer worked and we started missing good opportunities. We'd be getting busy when one of the kids would call out or just lose their shit that night or get whiny. When they wanted in, they'd be as loud and annoying as possible, banging on the door and waking everyone up before we would give in and answer it.

Our kids had caught us several times in the act and we expected that in a house where the parents are sexually active. However, shit got real the night we heard a quiet, "Mommy?" from a child standing close as I was having a come to Jesus moment and Edward reached the point where he couldn't stop thrusting. When she started crying, we both knew we had to come up with a solution.

He came home unexpectedly one afternoon during what should have been nap time. I was sweaty and red faced with my hair piled haphazardly on my head. Yeah, I was totally glamorous, going DEFCON 5 on the house, so consumed by the state of our home that I ignored him. He asked if he could help me and I took it to mean he thought I couldn't cope. He was actually so frustrated that he'd take me in any state if he could plunge in and have his way with me.

Satisfying his morning wood had always been a favorite of mine, a sensual fuck after waking, cuddled up together, the morning orgasm that made me feel good for the whole day. Now, we had to be up long before our children, just to stem the shit storm they could and would unleash in our kitchen if we left them unattended.

One morning he hit me with a kind of ultimatum as we pulled the duvet up the bed together.

"You know how much I love you, baby doll."

"I think so, I hope so. I love you too."

"When was the last time you think we had sex?"

I had no idea. I could barely remember how we managed dinner a couple of night's ago.

"Last week, wasn't it?"

"No, that was the last time we attempted it. We were interrupted, remember?"

_Shit, that's right._ "Oh yeah…that was…I'm sorry about that."

"I'm not saying it's your fault. We've had good orgasms in this house before, very good ones as I remember. There are four of them living with us."

"That would be technically three orgasms, Edward."

He didn't react to my badly-timed attempt at humor, so I quietly waited for the rest of his speech. He sighed and turned away slightly, pushing his hair back and looking out the window.

"I shouldn't have to jack off in my own home when I'm happily married."

My eyes welled with tears as I shook my head to agree with him. I felt hollow inside from his revelation. Here was the man who had my heart, suffering from a lack of sex, and I was the reason.

"Thank God you said 'happily'. I still love you, Edward."

His shoulders dropped and he came over to envelop me in one of his most reassuring hugs. "I love you too, baby doll. You're my Bella." After a few seconds, he held my arms and fixed me with his eyes.

"If we can't do it as much as we used to, then we need to get out of here if we're going to achieve the level of satisfaction that I'm…_anticipating_."

My eyes popped when he said, "anticipating," using eye contact that means everything. With four witnesses never far away, his dirty talk has evolved into something so subtle that only I notice it and the fact that he means it just for me is crazy sexy. When he uses his code in private, it's a tune I'm ready to rock and roll to. It did make me slightly nervous, however, because he could mean anything when he gets like this. His sexual brain hasn't changed since I met him, so I hoped he wasn't anticipating trying anal again. My b-hymen should be reborn by now and I want it to stay that way.

He touched a couple of fingers under my chin and kissed me with a tongue that promised a whole lot more. Just as I felt myself melting into him, he stopped and looked at me deeply.

"Would you go on a date with me, Bella?"

There was only one answer to that. I slid my hands up his chest and said, "Sure."

"I'll buy you dinner if you'll put out," he added, his voice full of sex, lightly squeezing my hips.

"Then consider me a sure thing, Cullen." He smiled and, just as I kissed him again, one of the kids needed something – on cue.

"Mommy?"

We both sighed and pulled ourselves back to reality. He finished getting dressed and I left the room, ready to murder one of our children. I still can't believe I can't tell who it is when they call me. They all sound the same.

So, tonight is date night. With two birthdays looming in our household, and two other mouths that can't keep a secret, Edward and I decide to hit Target right after we drop the kids off, pick up the stuff I have on order, and choose a few other presents. We are going back home to hide it all properly before we start our date. Buzzing with nervous energy that needs a different outlet, we could probably spend a little longer on what we buy for them but we're at the checkout before we know it. I pull the clothes off the hangers to get through faster when Edward pushes himself into to my hip under the guise of removing his credit card from his wallet. I even make idle chit chat with the cashier about the cute dress and the sweet lace on the socks as she scans them, so she'll concentrate on our purchases and not on my husband's blatant sexual advances.

I imagine one of those _Mall of America: Mall Cops_ leaning forward at screen number six upstairs, wondering what he is actually witnessing at the Target checkouts.

_Is that man… __i__s he dry humping that woman?_

Edward swipes his card like lightning and we get out of there. He keeps the cart tight in front of him.

This particular Saturday night, the Target parking lot is almost empty and as soon as we close the back door of our SUV, our eyes meet and we _know_. We unbuckle a baby seat each and they go in the back with the presents. We get in the back seat and I straddle him, wanting my share of the dry humping action, kissing him with nothing short of total lust. It's wet and sloppy and fan-fucking-tastic. We moan into each other's mouths as he squeezes my ass and my tits before he lifts me off him, placing me down on the seat so he can remove my panties.

"Really?" I ask, urging him to consider this carefully. He is like a pillar of society in this town after all. None of them knows private Edward Cullen like I do.

"Yeah, really," he answers with twinkling mischief in his eyes, undoing his belt and yanking his pants and boxers down, using one of his long thick fingers to slide in and check if I'm wet enough for him. He smiles and bites on his lower lip as he adds a second finger and starts circling my clit with his thumb, pushing down with the perfect amount of pressure until I whisper for him to fuck me. He tries to make sure I'm comfortable, before easing the beast in, locking eyes with me, fucking and grinding the way only he knows how to send me.

"So good, you still feel so fucking good," he growls in my ear.

God, we needed something like this. It's breathy and frenzied with the car squeaking and rocking as he pounds into me, my heel pressed against the side of the front seat so I can meet every thrust. I feel my toes curl tightly and my leg starts to shake.

Coming fast and hard, we scream into our kiss as we climax. We lay there connected and spent as we try to catch our breath, laughing at what we've just done, and then groan when we finally have to get up. It's obvious that we're not as young as we used to be but that was hot, like repeatable hot, maybe next time in a town where they don't know us. It's fun, though, grinning and holding hands on the way home in a car full of the smell of sex.

When we arrive home, we abandon the idea of dinner when the back seat needs a clean up while Edward takes the birthday presents inside. When he comes back for a second trip, he looks at me, shaking his head, remembering our guilty pleasure, quietly saying he must have been crazy. I cock up an eyebrow, and say I thought it was hot, that he was hot. He puts the presents down and kisses me up against the car with my leg wrapped around him and my hands pulling his hair as he presses himself onto me. Once inside, we soon find ourselves in bed, taking things a little slower and more sensually the second time.

In his arms I find something I missed almost as much as spontaneous sex – lying in bed, talking and drifting off to sleep, burrowed into his chest naked, with no one there but us.

The next morning I'm sore and it feels like I've dislocated my joints. It makes me remember why I'm wearing the smile that my sexy husband put on my face. He _is_ incredibly hot. There's still no doubt I hit the jackpot when I got him.

A couple of days before our second date night, we're arguing and we almost call it off. We don't feel like wasting a whole lot of money on dinner and a hotel if we are just going to fight, so we stay home.

Without any little ears there listening to us, we let each other have it, storming in and out of rooms, following one another, venting every frustrating annoyance in our lives.

When I call out, "Fuck you, Cullen!" he comes back at me and I know I've unleashed his crazy. His chest is heaving as if he is losing control. Instead of yelling back, he picks me up, and throws me on our bed, panting and looming over me. His aggression turns into a violent passionate kiss I return and I think it might be the best hotheaded, make-up sex anyone ever had. We certainly aren't fighting when we pick the kids up the next morning and take them to the park.

The third date is dinner and an overnight stay in one of the local hotels. The sex is great, but we both come away feeling slightly disappointed after the last two encounters. It was a little too planned.

We make up for it when Edward surprises me. He calls to say he has some free time in the afternoon and that Esme has agreed to take the kids for an hour or so. He asks me to drop them off and meet him at a motel out on the highway. It's clean, but it has an edge of the sleaze about it. It feels like we're "cheating" and it adds something extra dirty to the "let's-do-this-quick-we-have-to-get-back" idea he's going for.

It's so good it gives us ideas to open up the boundaries of date night. We bounce around role plays we've both fantasized about, titillating each other for as long as possible before we get to it, and then decide to just let it play out on the night. For this next one, the only thing we plan is that we knew each other in college and we both had the secret hots for each other. It has many possibilities, like a version of our first proper night together after I broke up with my college boyfriend, Mike. After knowing each other only slightly for ages, we did connect right away, mentally and physically. I know I'm really going to like this one.

We decide not to book a hotel anywhere. We know we can just go home if that part gets complicated, and we don't want to over plan this. We drive separately to a bar a couple of suburbs away and I find him seated at a small table playing with his trademark glass of Maker's Mark. He glances up at me and then down at his phone. We're going to play this game fully so I go to the bar and order a drink. We haven't made plans for dinner either, so I guess we'll just get something here. As I turn around with my drink, he looks frustrated, running his hands through his hair. For a moment, I wonder if there is a problem with one of the kids.

I look around for a table and decide to walk straight past him.

"Bella? Isabella Swan?"

Turning slightly, I look at him carefully and, with a forced look of relief, I say, "Yes, hello, Edward. It's Edward Cullen, right? I remember you."

"How many years has it been, Bella?"

"Too many. Are you married?"

He shakes his head and says, "Separated." I nod understandingly and he asks, "You?"

"Divorced."

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"I'm waiting for Rose as it happens."

"Wow, that name brings back memories."

I genuinely laugh, thinking about what we got up to in college and how cray cray we all were back then.

"You always did have a very pretty smile, Bella."

Seriously, he is so good at this. He's making it up on the fly.

"Thank you, Edward. I really didn't think you noticed me in those days. You were one of the jocks and I was the bookworm, remember?"

"Oh, I noticed you. I like bookworms, especially good-looking ones. I always thought you were too good for me."

I sit down, enjoying this banter, ready to take it up a notch.

"Oh, it's the Cullens! What a coincidence seeing you two."

It's Tom and Kelly. Great. Tom is one of the on-call doctors who occasionally work at Edward's practice. He comes in and fills a spot when one of the partners needs some time off and he has always reminded me of Dr. Perry Cox from Scrubs. With Jim Carrey teeth and a chin way too big for his face, he's like a caricature doctor. He's okay in small doses, but can be an opinionated prick some times and Kelly, well she's his over-zealous and ever-smiling wife. She wears pearls – with everything.

They sit down uninvited, asking where the kids are, and look at each other as if they've struck gold when we say my Mom has them. I kick myself for being too slow and not lying my face off. I should have said we were just about to leave to pick them up.

They finish each other's sentences about their shrinking golf handicaps and tell us we should really join them sometime for a game. We say that would be great. Tom checks his Rolex and they say they won't hear of us staying on our own when they have a great table booked for dinner. It's their anniversary.

Unbelievably, Edward says we'd love to and that we'll be right along, that he wants to buy some good wine to have with dinner. They give us the address and toddle off holding hands. It's just around the corner.

"What the fuck, Edward?"

"I don't want to be rude to him. He's the only goddamn decent on-call doc in the area and he gives us preference when we need him."

I put on my son's best whiny look. "Jesus, Edward, he's a pain in the ass. If they say one more time what a surprise it is running into us without the kids, I'll…"

Edward rubs my arms and pleads, "It's just one night and I'll make it up to you. Please, Bella."

My shoulders slump in defeat and he smiles. "I promise," he says, kissing me.

They fill the evening by telling us every detail of their recent vacation in Europe. I drink a lot more than my share of the wine. It goes on for so long that I don't think we'll ever need to go there now. There is surely nothing left to discover after this.

The food is not exceptional and I find myself leaning on my hand. The only good thing is Edward's hand occasionally squeezing my thigh to reassure me there's someone real at the table.

They also ask a million questions about our kids, so we end up chatting about our children for the rest of the night. For fuck's sake, we do that the other 29 or 30 days of the month. Just because they decided it was too expensive and inconvenient to have kids, we shouldn't have to satisfy their natural curiosity about what it's like to have them – for what seems like an eternity. I keep drinking and I lean back onto Edward's arm. It's constantly around me now. I guess it's something, but I feel like I want my money back on date night this month.

I pass out in the car on the way home and the next morning, I'm feeling ill and disappointed we didn't do it. My understanding husband is wonderful. He tells me we'll make up for it next month and kisses me when I pout.

During the next month, we do manage to sneak in a couple of quickies. We're starting to show a more united front around our tribe and we've become attuned to the fact that sex makes our relationship stronger.

Date night arrives and Edward's been very affectionate for the last couple of days. His eyes are telling me he's got something dirty going on in his head. He won't discuss any plans, only that we are going to a bar in the city this time, far away from pesky work colleagues. We agree that if we see anyone, we're in a rush to get the kids.

He's being very secretive. He texts me the location and asks if I'll drop the kids off, saying he has a couple of things to do first.

When I arrive at the bar, he's not there yet. I have to refuse a couple of invitations from men who want to buy me a drink. It's flattering but creepy when I tell them I'm waiting for someone because it sounds like the biggest come on line there is. Not yet worried that something has happened to him, I start to feel annoyed. I'm slumped over the remains of my drink, trying to make it last, not wanting to order again in case someone wants to buy me another.

Suddenly a fresh glass arrives and the bartender motions over to the other end of the bar, to point out the person who bought it for me. I cringe, wondering what they expect will happen. It's one thing to say no to a drink, but probably another to decline one when it has already been poured. I start to wish I'd never agreed to this, but I look up slowly, ready to smile appropriately and hope to God he doesn't come over to join me.

There, seated a ways from me is my husband, dripping with sex appeal in his best grey suit, blue tie pulled slightly to the side, and legs open as he swivels on his stool and smirks at me. He's had a hair cut, just enough to tidy the unruly mop, and it looks good on him.

I breathe out very slowly through my nose, trying to hide the relief I'm feeling, and I let an eyebrow twitch up at him slightly, before turning to face forward again. I finish my drink, but I don't touch the one he's bought for me. He can damn well come over here and greet me properly first. I sit up straighter and look around, at anywhere but him. When I turn back, he's on the way over and he places his Maker's Mark on the bar next to me. I let my eyes slide from his knees to his shoulders before taking a sip of the drink he bought me.

He leans down to my ear and his voice is husky. "You're more beautiful than the photo you sent me, Isabella."

_Okay, so this is what we're doing tonight. I'm ready._

"And you smell great, Mr. Cullen." As I say it, he brushes a very smooth jaw against mine. He's definitely just had a shower and a shave so maybe we're staying in town tonight.

He leans his back on the bar and drops his eyes to my breasts. Without looking up, he says, "Call me Edward. I'm not that old."

"I can see that." I lock my eyes on his pants and hope he notices. "Edward it is."

The sex appeal radiating off him is compelling. I wonder how many women in this bar are looking at me enviously and it gives me a lot of confidence.

"Are we…eating first, Edward?" I ask, palming his abs just above his belt. I let my fingers slowly slide up and leave my eyes on them.

"I thought about it, Isabella, but now I've seen what I'm getting, I'd prefer to get right to it."

I look up into his eyes and his pupils have dilated. They look almost black. Holy shit, he's devastating. When I smile, he turns and finishes his whiskey. I leave my drink, not wanting alcohol to impair me tonight.

Neither of us breaks out of character as I follow him, asking nothing about where we are going. He heads for the elevators so I gather he's booked a room upstairs.

"Do you kiss, Edward?"

"What do you mean?" he asks nervously, with no idea where I'm going.

I am really enjoying this. If I'd known, I would have taken another name like Cinnamon or Amber for the evening. I settle for Isabella because he never calls me that.

"Do we kiss or just fuck?"

He tries not to laugh and it ends up in a huge smirk. "I think we'll kiss, touch, bite, suck, lick, and I'll fuck every orifice and crevice you're prepared to give me."

He can't shock me. Matter-of-factly, I say, "I don't do anal." I hear someone clear their throat as the elevator pings and doors open. I'm horrified, but I keep my composure.

"Then we don't do anal, Isabella."

We don't speak again until we're in the room. It's a hundred times better than the last motel, but I have the same jittery feeling. I'm good at hiding it, though, as I place my handbag down and look around.

"Very nice."

"Are you hungry? I have oysters and champagne."

I look at him directly and answer, "No, not very."

"Maybe later then."

I notice a white gift box on the bed and ask, "Is this…for me?"

"Yes, it's a present." He steps closer, picks it up and hands it to me, running a finger down the side of my breast. "Would you slip into the bathroom and try them on for me? A lap dance might be a good way to get acquainted."

Oh, my God. An emotional war starts inside me. He's so sexy right now that I don't dare break the spell, but I desperately want to hug him, kiss him, and tell him how much I love him. He's reenacting that first night on his birthday in his downstairs room at the toga party.

I go to the bathroom to do as he says. Inside the box is a black and white lace bra and panty set. It's expensively soft and the panties are crotchless. I've never worn them before and they feel weird and good at the same time. I check out myself in the mirror and think I'm not bad for the mother of four.

I hear familiar music, and now it's hard not to rush out and throw my arms around him. He's remembered the song I played, Paula Cole's "Feeling Love," all those years ago. I get the girls nice and cozy in the bra, mess my hair up and practice dancing seductively for another minute before I come out.

He's dimmed the lights and he's sitting there naked, no toga tonight, but he's got his whiskey and he looks me up and down, smiling. He says only, "It's on loop."

"Good choice." I smile back and dance around for a while, running my hands over my body, feeling sexier by the minute, closing my eyes and enjoying my song. Now it's really _our_ song forever.

I wonder what he thinks he's going to do to me. I think I'll surprise him. I turn away and bend over so he gets a full view of the panties with the opening stretched. I turn and see him touch his dick, getting harder by the minute. I sway my hips to the beat with my legs wide open and I see his hips rise off the couch. He's thinking about fucking me.

I walk towards him and instead of straddling him like he expects, I kiss him once with my tongue, then drop to my knees and run my hands slowly up his thighs, opening them wide. I look up with my sexiest smile and without giving him the chance to say anything; I lean over and lick his sack. He groans and closes his eyes and, when he opens them, they're black again, like his pupils have consumed his irises.

I run both hands over his cock, up his chest and back down again, watching as his breathing becomes forced. I know he wants to direct me, but he also wants to watch, so I don't disappoint him. I lick him from his sack up to the tip, and suck him into my mouth as hard as I can.

"Ahh, fuck, you're good at that!" he calls out, so I circle the head with my tongue, making sure my tits rub on his legs. I let my hand do the work at the base and see how that goes, alternating between sucking him hard and swirling my tongue around him.

He swallows the last of the whiskey before the glass goes bouncing on the floor and his fingers gently touch my hair. His hips can't help the way they want to drive him deep into my mouth, so I take him in all the way, but I don't stay there. I want to draw this out as long as I can. I keep licking and add the occasional deep throat to the mix every now and then. It's killing him and it makes me feel powerful.

"Do you want me to keep doing this or do you still want the lap dance," I ask, rubbing a thumb hard over the head as I move his skin up and down with my other hand.

He's watching, struggling to keep his eyes focused. "I… I…fuuuck."

I didn't think I had a hope in hell of getting a clear response, so I go back to sucking and licking, adding a little teeth, while I cradle his sack and very gently squeeze. He's soon gone. His hips lift so I suck down as hard as I can. He makes a sound like he's going to take off and then stills, rocks back and forth, shooting streams of cum down the back of my throat. If I learned a lesson from our college days, it was to keep him in as deep as possible when he ejaculates. Jizz in your eye isn't fun.

His head falls back and he pants uncontrollably. I can't honestly remember the last time I made him come that hard, but he's still beautiful when it happens and I stay on my knees, admiring his balls that are so plump and huge. As he calms, I get us each a bottle of water. It's more polite for me than rinsing in the bathroom. It's still jizz. It's magical jizz that created our four magnificent, maddening children but, in my mouth, it's still jizz.

"I thought you were going to stop and give me a lap dance."

"You should have said something."

"I'm so glad you didn't stop. You were amazing."

"Are you breaking character, Cullen?"

"Just give me a minute, you vixen. Better still, come up here and lap dance me back to hard. I want a scorching hot kiss and then we'll start with those tits in my mouth if you're not doing anything with 'em. We'll eat the oysters after, say…two orgasms each."

I giggle and say, "Sounds like a plan."

I climb on to kiss him, but he holds my jaw, then smooths my hair back, looking at me with the sweetest green eyes.

"You know I'm crazy about you."

"And I love you Edward, so much."

I kiss him with everything I have. He starts to moan right away, hugging me, touching me all over, and I know we're back. The old Bella and Edward have resurrected themselves. We still have years to go before things will be easy again, but I know now we'll make it. We may have had our time torn from us by family and responsibility, but our love for each other has never changed.

We'll find the right balance between being friends and parents and lovers and, with a lifetime of date nights to look forward to, I can't wait to find out what it will be.

...

_**Happy Birthday, Lay, and thank you for everything. **_

_**xoxo**_


End file.
